


Once I Was Real

by snicklefritz



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Romantic Friendship, i think
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 10:45:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snicklefritz/pseuds/snicklefritz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jefferson is a gentleman (or a good-for-nothing cur if you ask Ruby) and Belle regains her memories. Mad Beauty, implied RumBelle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once I Was Real

**Author's Note:**

> First fic on AO3, yay!
> 
> Title is from the lovely song Once I Was Real by Caleb Kane, if you haven't seen the OUAT tribute to that song you should totally check it out. 
> 
> I had this story completely finished when I decided to tweak one little paragraph and then about three words and an almost entirely different story later, here we are.

He brings her tea, strong but not overly sweet, and stares at her with wild eyes. She is less afraid of him than the other man they call Gold, but Belle flinches away from him just the same. He looks like he expects that reaction though, and scoots his chair further back to give her breathing room. Out of all the people who've come in to see her- Gold, Dr. Whale, Sheriff Swan, and that waitress Ruby- this man is the only one who seems vaguely familiar.

"I brought you tea," he says unnecessarily, gesturing to cardboard cup on her bedside table. His voice is lower than she expects, rough like sandpaper. "People with amnesia, sometimes their preferences change, but I made it how you always liked it, just in case."

Belle stares at him. The man is completely overdressed for a hospital visit (who on earth still wears _waistcoats_?) but he seems earnest enough. She takes a cautious sip of tea. There is no sudden earth-shattering realization of who she is, but it's better than the swill the hospital serves, so she takes a bigger sip. 

"It's good," she murmurs, and his face lights up brilliantly. He was handsome enough with his brooding gaze, but with his eyes bright and smile wide, he is breathtaking. 

"You... broke me out of the psych ward," Belle says slowly, and the man's smile fades as quickly as it came. He nods curtly. 

"I'm surprised you remember that."

Belle tucks a curl of hair behind her ear. "I don't remember it very well." She stares hard at him then, willing the fine details of that moment to materialize in her mind. He stares back at her unwaveringly. 

"Your name…" Belle struggles to keep the memory from sliding away, "is- is Jefferson?"

Jefferson nods at her again, and the corner of his lip twitches like he wants to smile at her. "Yes, that's right."

"Why can I remember you but nothing else?" Belle muses, drinking more tea. It really _is_ excellent. Jefferson laces his fingers together and leans forward in his chair. He's closer than she'd like him to be.

"My guess," he says slowly, "is that it's because I'm the last person you spoke with before the Curse was broken. It isn't a perfect theory though-"

The cup of tea hits the floor with a dull smack, and caramel colored liquid spills out over the hospital floor. Belle's hands shake violently as she flinches away from Jefferson.

"Don't!" she pleads, "Don't talk about magic like it's real!"

Jefferson backs away from her quickly, his eyes angry. Belle does't know that he's thinking of Emma and her disbelief, but he reminds himself that Emma was stubborn and willful and he'd kidnapped her at the time. Belle's memory loss wasn't her fault. She'd reverted to her Storybrooke persona (whom Jefferson never got to know) so of course her behavior is wrong. She's afraid. 

Jefferson calms his features, silences the Hatter, and cleans up the spilled tea. Belle watches him warily from the hospital bed. 

"I'm sorry," he apologizes. "I thought talking about it might trigger a memory."

Belle burrows further into her hospital blankets and refuses to look at him. Jefferson runs a frustrated hand through his hair and asks cautiously, "If it's alright with you, may I come back tomorrow?"

Belle still won't look at him. But something in Jefferson's tone tells her he's genuinely sorry to have upset her, and she nods in assent. Out of the corner of her eye she sees him smile again. He bows to her ( _bows_ , he _bows_ , who does he think he is?) and retreats from the room. Belle strangely finds that she misses his presence almost immediately, and she pulls up the sheets around her to try to take a nap, to put Jefferson's odd behavior out of her mind. 

She dreams fitfully of running in circles, of cats, of shouting queens and a broken tea cup, but they slip out of her mind like smoke when she awakes. 

The next day Jefferson arrives with a fresh cup of tea and a smile that Belle instantly knows is false. At least he doesn't bow to her again like some kind of butler. He sits down next to her bed (too close again) and looks at her with those same slightly-manic eyes. 

Before he says anything though, Belle blurts out, "You're not going to talk about magic, are you?" She can't take another stranger telling her about magic and other worlds and true love and who knows what else. She can't do it. 

Jefferson starts at the question, but he shakes his head and softly promises, "I won't."

Belle breathes a sigh of relief. She taps the lid of the tea cup, uncertain of what happens now. Jefferson is silent for a while, simply observing her, before he asks, "Is there anything you want to know? About yourself?"

Privately Belle is more interested in hearing about Jefferson's exploits, but she agrees with him. "That woman, Ruby- she said I ran the library?"

"It had been closed for years. You reopened it and managed it all by yourself," he tells her, a noticeable measure of pride in his tone. 

"Did you work there with me?" Belle guesses. Jefferson smiles and shakes his head. "I don't- I don't really have the patience to read," he explains, "not that you didn't try to get me to. You'd pick out books for me and I would get a few chapters in and I-" he breaks off suddenly, but before Belle can ask what was the matter he continues, "I'm just not much of a reader." He scratches at the cravat around his neck. "Sometimes you would read to me though," he murmurs, staring down at the hospital floor. "I liked that." 

Belle isn't sure how to respond to that other than a strained, "That's nice." 

Jefferson is quiet for another awkward moment before he suddenly starts patting down his vest pockets. "I forgot, I brought it with me-" he mutters before he produces a slightly bent paperback from one of his pockets and hands it to her. "It's what you were reading when you-" he falters, his hands gesticulating uncertainly as Belle takes the book from him. "I thought you might be bored," he finishes. 

Belle smiles up at him warmly- her other visitors hadn't brought her anything to occupy her time with, and Jefferson is quite right in saying that she's bored. "Thank you," she says sincerely, impulsively putting her hand over his. The gesture makes Jefferson stiffen and then quite suddenly relax visibly. All the tension seems to evaporate out of him as he stares at their hands. He gently laces their fingers together, loosely so that Belle can let go if she wants. Belle doesn't know if this was normal for them, but Jefferson looks calmer than she has ever seen him, so she settles their hands on the side of the hospital bed and uses her free hand to open up the book her brought her. Her voice cracks a little and her rhythm is jumpy, but Belle carefully reads the first chapter aloud to Jefferson. His eyes are bright when she finishes and his body language is loose and open, and something about the sight of him smiling so happily at her makes her chest constrict. He gives her hand a squeeze and then raises it to press a light kiss to her knuckles. The gesture itself doesn't surprise her, but she flushes anyway, and Jefferson gives her one last grin before promising to be back tomorrow. 

Jefferson comes back with a real smile the next morning and settles down next to her. She's already becoming used to his lack of personal space. She decides that she wants to hear more about the people in Storybrooke, and Jefferson is more than happy to oblige her with a surprising amount of knowledge about the other residents. He tells her about the engagement of Ashley Boyd and the shenanigans of the town drunk Leroy and the disgrace of reporter Sidney Glass. Jefferson avoids talking about Sheriff Swan and Mr. Gold, but Belle doesn't mention it. She'd rather not talk about them anyway. 

Just as Jefferson is in the middle of a story about the amorous Dr. Whale, Ruby comes in with a container of food from the diner. She takes one look at Jefferson lounging next to Belle's hospital bed and growls, low in her throat and teeth bared. Belle shrinks back and Jefferson stands, shifting to block Ruby's view of Belle. 

"What are _you_ doing here?" Ruby demands, eyes narrowed dangerously. 

"Same as you, visiting our favorite librarian," Jefferson explains, but his voice has gone low and cold and he stares at Ruby like she's some kind of insect and he's working out the best way to squish her. 

"You're not welcome here," Ruby states, and Jefferson just laughs, the sound sharp and cruel. 

"Tell me, _Red_ , of the two of us, who's been run out of town by an angry mob before?" Jefferson sneers. Ruby's hands flex and it's perfectly clear that she's running out of calm. The change in the two of them is frightening beyond words, and Belle tries to tell them to knock it off but her voice is caught in her throat. Jefferson looks down at her and tries to smile reassuringly, but it's the kind of grin that belongs on a madman. "I'll see you tomorrow, little bird," he promises, and with one last threatening look at Ruby, retreats out of the ward. 

As soon as he leaves Ruby calls Jefferson an unkind name, and slams the container of pie on the bedside table. 

"Good-for-nothing cur," she mutters darkly. "What was he doing in here?"

"Visiting me," Belle replies weakly. Her hands are clutching the sheets in a death grip. "He was just visiting me."

"What did he want?" Ruby questions. Belle shakes her head. "Nothing."

"Jefferson is _trouble_ ," Ruby went on. "Don't listen to a word he says, he's a conman and a criminal. He kidnapped Emma and Mary Margaret once, and thank goodness they got away, there's no telling what he would have done with them." 

"He _what_?" Belle chokes. Kidnapping? Jefferson? If she hadn't just seen the brutal display between him and Ruby she would have thought the waitress was making things up. 

"Oh, he didn't tell you about that during his little visit?" Ruby sneers. "He's _crazy_ , Belle. Crazy and dangerous." She puts a slice of cherry pie on a paper plate and hands it to Belle, who takes it dazedly. 

"He's never… he's been so kind to me," murmurs Belle. Ruby takes a bite of pie and points her fork at Belle. 

"That's because he wants something," she cautions. "But don't you worry, I'll protect you," she promises, chewing up more of her pie. The cherry juice stains her teeth a crimson color that looks unsettlingly like blood. Belle loses her appetite for the rest of the day. 

Jefferson doesn't show up at the hospital for the next three days. Ruby keeps to her word and appoints herself Belle's unofficial body guard, staying for the duration of visiting hours, and patrolling the hallways while Belle reads the book Jefferson left her. On the third night, well after Ruby has left for her shift, Belle is almost asleep when Jefferson slips quietly into her room. She startles awake to find him hovering over her bed. 

"How did you get in here?" she asks immediately, and he shrugs nonchalantly. "Whale owed me a favor," he grunts, waving his hand. "How I got in isn't important. Are you okay?"

"I'm- I'm fine," Belle stammers. And before she can stop herself, she begs, "Please tell me you didn't _really_ kidnap Sheriff Swan and Miss Blanchard."

Jefferson hesitates, and she hopes it's because the idea is so ludicrous that he needs a moment to compose himself before he tells her Ruby is lying. But instead he casts his eyes down at the floor and steps away from her. 

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," he confesses. He runs a hand nervously through his already wild hair as Belle gapes at him. 

" _Why?_ " she sputters. 

Jefferson starts pacing anxiously by her bed. "Mary Margaret- she was trying to leave Storybrooke. _Bad things_ happen when people try to leave- I mean, look at you!" he cries, gesturing to her bed. "And I knew that if I took Mary Margaret, Emma would come looking for her, and I needed Emma's help with my work. I couldn't approach her directly, she'd think I was-," he cuts off abruptly and takes a deep breath. "When I saw Mary Margaret in the woods, it was the perfect opportunity. I couldn't pass it up."

Belle stares at him in horror. "You kidnapped the sheriff and you aren't in jail?!" 

"I hid after they escaped. I figured they'd come looking for me; that family knows how to to hold a grudge," he explains. "But they had to deal with Regina first, and I've been careful to keep my distance if they decide to get their revenge." 

"And when exactly were you going to tell me this?" Belle demands. 

Jefferson sits down heavily in the chair. "I already did," he sighs, "weeks ago. You reacted pretty much the same way," he recalls. "And then you forgave me. Because that's just who you are. You're the most forgiving person I've ever met."

Belle looks at him incredulously before she whispers, "Get out." 

Jefferson stares at her, wild-eyed. "Belle-"

"I must have been some kind of _saint_ before I lost my memory, to forgive you for kidnapping two women," she snaps, "but the Belle you knew is _gone_ , and I can't forgive you for something like that, so _get out_."

Jefferson looks at her disbelievingly for a long moment, and then he silently stands up and walks out of the hospital room. Belle cries well into the night , angry for his betrayal and saddened by the loss of the best friend she's had since waking up with no memory.

The rest of the week passes slowly. Doctor Whale still refuses to release her on the grounds that she needs more time to recover, but Belle knows he is lying. She drinks the weak tea the nurse provides her with and rereads the book Jefferson had brought her, trying to reconcile the idea of her kind friend as a kidnapper. She'd sensed from the moment they met that he was odd, sometimes even a little unbalanced, but she never suspected he was capable of violence. And yet, the strange look in his eyes whenever she would mention the Mayor, or roses, or that one time when she commented on a nurse's hat and Jefferson excused himself for five minutes just to _breathe_ , all bespoke of someone with control issues. 

She never really felt that he would hurt _her_ , though. It didn't make her feel better. How could she trust him now? How could she be absolutely certain that he wouldn't do something violent again?

One dreary Tuesday morning a little boy and girl come to visit her. They're both wearing the uniform of Storybrooke Elementary. They look excited to see her, and it instantly fills Belle with dread. Had the pre-amnesia her liked children? 

"Hi Miss Belle!" the girl chirps. The boy waves at her, smiling. Belle gives an awkward little wave back, remembering at the last second to smile. 

"Hello," she supplies cautiously. "Why aren't you in school?"

"This was the best time to visit you," the boy declares. "Grace really missed you," he adds, gesturing to his grey-eyed companion. "And we thought we could help you remember things."

Belle eyes the children warily. "You're not a doctor," she reminds the boy.

"Nope, I'm Henry," he proclaimes. 

"And I'm Grace," the little girl pipes up. "Jefferson is my papa."

Belle focuses all of her attention on the little girl. She can see it now, in the brightness of her eyes and the strength of her jawline; this is Jefferson's little girl. "He never mentioned you," she states. 

Grace doesn't look surprised. "Papa said he hoped that you would remember me on your own. He said pushing too much information on you would scare you," she explains. It seems logical enough. 

"Do you know what your Papa did to Sheriff Swan and Miss Blanchard?" Belle asks, and both Grace and Henry nod. 

"Emma is my mom, she told me the story," Henry supplies. 

"And Papa told me," Grace adds. 

"And you're just _okay_ with this?" Belle sputters. "You're ten!"

"I'm eleven," Grace gently corrects, "and no, I think what Papa did was bad. His intentions were good though, and he's trying to make up for what he did."

"You're a _child_ ," Belle fumes, "you don't know how the world _works_."

Before Grace can say anything back Henry clears his throat pointedly. "Miss Belle, we brought you a new book to read," he announces, and pulls a large tome out of his backpack. It's a huge book, wider than it is long, with thick embossed covers and gilt on the edge of the pages. The spine looks worse for wear but it seems sturdy enough, the way Henry handles it. The reader part of Belle's psyche instantly falls a little in love with that book, and against her better judgement she reaches out to take it from him. 

"It's helped a lot of other people in town, so we thought it could help you," Henry says. The cover reads _Once Upon a Time_. 

"You've got to be kidding me," Belle scoffs. "Fairy tales?"

"Everyone gets something out of a good story," Grace claims. "Maybe you'll remember something."

_I doubt that very much_ , Belle thinks privately, but even so, she clutches the book a little tighter. 

"Take good care of it," Henry stresses, "it's my favorite." And with another little wave from both of them the two children quietly leave Belle's hospital room. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Grace take Henry's hand. 

"Cute," she grumbles, "who are you two supposed to be, Hansel and Gretel?" 

She sets the book on her bedside table and resolutely watches the birds fly past her window until sunset. 

Despite her misgivings, the children's words haunt her throughout the night until she finally gives up on trying to sleep. Belle throws off her covers and sets the book on her lap. She examines it from every angle first before opening it. There is something odd about the book; it feels warm beneath her touch, and sometimes she swears she can feel the book pulse, like it has a heartbeat. 

Finally resigning herself to a sleepless night, Belle opens the book and starts reading. 

The nurses find her the next morning wide-eyed and twitchy, halfway through the story of Red Riding Hood. Her head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton and her hands shake, but she can't stop turning the pages frantically. She'd thought it was coincidence when the picture of Geppetto looked like Marco the handyman. She'd thought it was stranger still when Mary Margaret looked _exactly like_ Snow White. It was an oddity, a coincidence, but something that must surely be explainable. But the illustration of Red Riding Hood and her Granny was a mirror image of Ruby and her own Granny, and so was their relationship with one another- constantly bickering but always looking out for each other, always forgiving one another, and in the back of Belle's mind the realization that _they were right_ was beginning to unfold. She tears through the book hungrily, searching for Jefferson's story, for her own story, because Henry and Grace wouldn't have given her this if they weren't included. 

The book didn't appear to be in any sort of order, and many of the stories crossed over with one another in unexpected ways. She finds Jefferson first. She forces herself to slow down and read every word slowly, to commit them to memory. When Jefferson makes the deal with the Evil Queen to provide for Grace her heart leaps into her throat; when the Evil Queen leaves him behind in Wonderland she sobs. The last image of Jefferson frantically making hats in his workshop drives her over the edge and she flings the book off the bed. Belle curls up into a ball and cries so hard the nurses come in to sedate her. She lets them. She didn't want to think about the stories any more. They can't be real and yet every story in that book is _impossibly_ real, visceral and intense and painful. 

Her last thought before the sedative takes hold is that she isn't sure she wants to know who she is anymore.

She wakes the next morning and after drinking what she hopes is her last cup of weak hospital tea, she opens the book to find her own story. It doesn't take long for her to find an illustration of herself, with her hair done up nicely and wearing a beautiful golden ball gown. The story is entitled _Beauty and the Beast_.

It takes her most of the morning to read the tale. When she's done, she closes the book and sets it gently on her table. Without a word, she gets out of bed, and carefully drags her IV with her to peek outside the door. There is only one nurse at the station and after a few minutes patience, the nurse gets up and walks down the hallway. Belle rips out her IV feed, ignoring the pain in her arm, and bolts down the door as fast as her legs can carry her. She's been on bed rest so long that her legs feel like jelly as she runs, and her knees are already cramping, but she feels like she's flying as she tears down the stairs and out into the hospital lobby. Belle can hear shouting and footsteps behind her but she pushes herself on down the road and towards Main Street. Archie, no, no _Jiminy_ is walking Pongo as she races on past him, and she hears him cry out in surprise. She knows she must look a fright, running down Main Street in a hospital gown with no shoes on but she doesn't care- she has to find Jefferson, or Gold, or Ruby, or even Regina, she doesn't care who.

The clock strikes ten when Belle also strikes David, quite literally, and sends him toppling into the sidewalk, his groceries flying out into the street. He takes most of the fall for both of them and gasps beneath her, the wind knocked out of him. 

"Sorry," she says breathlessly, trying to untangle herself from him, "I've got to- I need to-sorry!"

David is still stunned and Belle too quick for him, and she's off again like a shot down the road. She sees Granny's Diner but Ruby said on her last visit that she didn't work Thursday mornings and bypasses it. She thinks she hears more shouting behind her but she doesn't care. Her head is so full of Henry's book she isn't sure what to think. She lets her feet carry her past all the shops on Main Street until suddenly she's standing outside of the library, _her_ library, gasping for breath. Belle pushes open the doors, surprised to find them unlocked and the lights on. The smell of ink and paper fills her nostrils and Belle tries to get herself to breathe, ignoring the painful cramps in her legs. 

"One minute," someone calls absently from beyond the shelves, and a moment later Jefferson appears carrying a stack of books. Neither he nor Grace had said anything about him keeping the library open for Belle, and the thought of it nearly makes her knees buckle. 

The moment he sees her Jefferson drops the stack of books, and maybe later Belle will be cross about the damage but right now she couldn't care less. Belle throws herself at him and he catches her gladly, crushing her against him until she can hardly breathe. Her legs finally give out and Jefferson's seem to have the same idea, and they both crumple to the floor, Jefferson still holding her tightly. She cries into his neck, for the Curse, for their memories, for the scar around his neck and the tea cup she shattered, for the losses they've suffered and the love they've regained and for every moment she'd forgotten about in between. 

"I remember," she sobs into his neck, "I remember everything, Jefferson, I'm sorry I didn't believe you, I'm sorry I didn't forgive you-"

Jefferson pulls her back just far enough so he can look at her eyes, which are now as red-rimmed as his. "What are you talking about, little bird?" he teases, wiping away a tear with his thumb. "This wasn't your fault. There's _nothing_ to forgive."

Belle closes her eyes and tries to choke back another sob. Jefferson shushes her and holds her against his chest, rocking her to and fro to calm her. He holds her hands in his to keep them from shaking. His fingers are stained with ink from the books, and when he laces them with hers the ink rubs into her skin. He pets her hair and murmurs nonsense to her, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her nose. When she can finally talk without crying he picks her up and sets her gently on top of the front desk to examine her feet, which are dirty and scratched up.

"And you're supposed to be the smart one," Jefferson admonishes. "Seriously, princess, who told you running barefoot on pavement was a good idea?" 

"Like you wouldn't have done the same thing," Belle retorts, and Jefferson grins at her, not the feral grin of the Hatter, but the honest grin of the young adventurer who brought her books in another life. She reaches down to grab his neck tie and pull him towards her, pressing a kiss to his lips. It's short and chaste and Jefferson is still grinning at her when she pulls away. He tucks a curl of hair behind her ear, letting his hand linger wistfully along her jawline. 

"Rumplestiltskin is in his shop," he says, and Belle moves to bolt out the door again, but Jefferson expects this and manages to catch her by the arm.

"Wait, wait!" he cries, trying to hold her still, "you're not going anywhere without shoes and a coat, it's _March_ , I won't have you catching pneumonia and ending up in the hospital again with a _real illness_ -" He slips his boots off his feet and grabs his own heavily embroidered winter coat from the coatrack, and refuses to let her run off until every single button is fastened.

"Just like Grace at first snowfall," he mutters as she wriggles beneath the buttons. "Rumple's not going _anywhere_ , you waited 28 years for that psychotic imp, you can surely wait one minute to put on a coat."

"Jefferson!" she threatens, but the Hatter simply rolls his eyes and does up the last button. He gives her one last kiss on the cheek and murmurs, "Now fly, little bird," giving her a little shove towards the door. She doesn't need telling twice as she ns back down Main Street, back to her love and back to her life.


End file.
